


tap tap tap (your name)

by bloodybaron



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodybaron/pseuds/bloodybaron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Zayn googles Liam every time he feels like having a wank, and gets busted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tap tap tap (your name)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really checked the exact tour dates, whether they really were in St Louis and San Francisco, or whether they went to Chicago or Las Vegas first, but it's not like it makes that much of a difference in this fic. Also, in Tap, Payzer lasts a tad bit longer than they did in reality. 
> 
> So, without further ado, I present to you my very first 1D-fanfic.  
> I hope you'll like it,  
> BloodyBaron  
> xxx

__  
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liam payne abs  
liam payne surfing in australia  
ziam  
liam payne  


*

Tour is bloody exhausting, Zayn thinks to himself as he downs another cup of coffee – black, but with plenty of sugar – and eases himself down on the sofa, squeezing in between Harry and Niall just seconds before the reporter tells them that 3… 2… 1… They’re live, and “Welcome to Australia, boys!”

Usually, he sits next to Liam, an arm slung around his shoulder, or with Liam’s hand resting on his knee, but lately, he’s made a point of avoiding physical contact with the Wolverhampton boy, which is probably more exhausting than all their tours put together but it’s a necessary precaution.

Because, despite being part of the most touchy feely band ever, snogging isn’t really something they do.

(Except that one time, when Liam had tickled him so much that the only way out had been for Zayn to kiss him. Which had been pleasant, more than pleasant, really, but also a very bad idea, because Liam was straight, in love with Dani and also the nicest person Zayn had ever met, so. So Liam not pushing him away didn’t mean a thing, except that Liam was actually nicer than Zayn had ever imagined. And more maliciously evil, as well, because while it spared Zayn the embarrassment of rejection, it gave him worse things to deal with. Like the feeling of Liam's soft lips against his own slightly chapped ones, and the hint of stubble against his throat.)

No. Keeping a distance was undoubtedly the best option for all parties involved, but just then the perfectly manicured reporter left the subject of kangaroos and Australian beer, and turned to Liam.

  
“So, Liam. I heard you were dating one of the dancers from the X Factor?”

  
“Yeah,” Liam says, flashing that all-consuming smile of his, “Yeah, I am. Danielle. She’s a lovely girl.”

  
And Zayn likes Danielle, he really does, but lately, his stomach has started doing this weird thing whenever he hears her name. '

It’s like something within him is roaring, tearing at his insides, leaving him with an uncomfortable feeling of deflation.

He does his best to not wince, but Niall’s hand still finds his and gives it a quick squeeze as the cameras focus on the blinding brightness that is Liam Payne.

*

Later that night, he can’t help himself.

After that first time, he promised himself to never do it again.Because it’s one of those things you simply don’t do.

You don’t actively search the Internet for paparazzi pictures of your best friend topless, not under any circumstances and especially not if it makes you feel all tingly inside.

But, they had had the afternoon off, for once, and they’d decided to make full use of the Australian sun and the hotel’s secluded pool.

And, apparently, keeping a respectable distance hadn’t made his fascination for Liam’s Apollo-esque physique go away in the slightest.

So now, with the memory of Liam pressing up against him wearing nothing but swim trunks, keeping him afloat when the other boys were busy wreaking havoc in the deeper end of the pool fresh in Zayn’s mind, he doesn’t just want or need more, he craves more with every fibre of his being.

When he reaches his room after pizza and a FIFA tourney in Niall’s room, he goes straight to Google. And, after a moment’s hesitation, he opens Tumblr as well.

He doesn’t spend the next two hours scrolling the ziam-tag.

Really, he doesn’t.

*

Three days later, they leave for America and over the following couple of weeks, they probably spend more time on airplanes, criss-crossing the gigantic country, than they do with their feet on actual American soil.

Zayn misses England, misses the comfort of having everything close. His mother, sisters, dad, London.

He’s not going to complain, though. He gets paid shitloads of money for doing something he loves, and he gets to do it with four of the people he loves the most.

It’s just.

Sometimes he misses how everything was before they were winning Brits every other day and releasing number one hits twice a week.

When they were just five boys fooling around in Harry’s stepdad’s bungalow, hoping to make it but not daring to dream.

Before he kissed Liam, before Liam didn’t push him away, before everything got so complicated.

Because, this whole avoiding Liam thing is fatiguing.

He’s snapping at the boys constantly, and he can’t even sleep properly at night because Liam hasn’t slipped into his bed and snuggled up close once since Zayn started this whole avoidance scheme.

And Zayn feels like there’s something clawing at him, begging for his attention, demanding that he acknowledges the pitch black, Liam-shaped hole inside him, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t just ignore it.

He loves Louis and Harry, he really does, and Niall is by far his best mate, but. But Liam is his best friend, and missing him is like missing a part of himself, like the phantom pain of an amputee.

*

Somewhere between Las Vegas and San Francisco, Liam and Danielle break up and everything turns upside down for a couple of days.

Liam had never been the loudest of them, but he becomes properly distant now, and Zayn worries.

He wants to help him in some way, but Liam doesn’t look at him or search him out, and they haven’t been alone for more than ten minutes for over a month, so when every night suddenly ends with Liam going to bed hours before the others, his shoulders always hunched as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible, Zayn sends Louis to check on him, and when Louis comes back to tell him Liam won’t open the door, Zayn sends him back over and over again until one night.

  
Liam goes to bed at eight and Harry is out with some long legged blonde (much to Louis’ annoyance), and so it’s just Niall and Louis who corner him, but it’s still terrifying enough.

  
“Mate, listen up,” Niall says and locks his eyes with Zayn’s, and there’s something stealthy in his blue eyes, something that tells Zayn that it’s serious this time, “Look. I don’t know what’s going on with Liam. Or you.”

  
“Because you’ve been a right moody twat recently,” Louis chips in before Zayn has the chance to protest.

  
“Yeah, look. Zayn. I don’t know what’s happening, but I think Liam needs his best friend, you know?”

  
And it hurts, hearing it from them, because he knows they’re right, he knows he’s been a selfish twat because what kind of person abandons his best friend just because of that itching sensation, that feeling of never getting quite enough? And, really, even though it was Liam who suddenly started going to the gym, Liam who suddenly made him feel all fuzzy and fan-girly, _Liam who didn’t push him away_ , despite all that, it’s still so glaringly obvious that it’s all Zayn’s fault, and it makes him so, so tired because he knows that three doors down the corridor, Liam is snugged up in his bed feeling shit.

And it might well be Danielle who’s the main reason they don’t get to see Liam smile and light up the world all that often anymore, but Zayn’s not been making it any better.

Zayn’s not been making it any better, and he knows that’s just as bad and his heart clenches when he thinks of it all.

  
“I- I. I’m such a fucking idiot,” he whines, and buries his head in his hand.

  
“Mate I’m sorry to say it, but yeah.” Louis says softly, scratching tenderly at the nape of Zayn’s neck, the otherwise ever present teasing tone in his voice nowhere to be heard.

  
“I think you’re an idiot in more ways than one, bad boy.” Niall sighs, his lips grazed by a small smile. Zayn looks at him, but Niall just shrugs, “Talk to him, yeah?”

*

Things go back to normal again, almost.

When they’re in Seattle, Liam sneaks into Zayn’s room for the first time since Australia.

Zayn’s one of those people who can fall asleep whenever and wherever, but he’s also a light sleeper, and when Liam nudges his shoulder, indicates for him to roll over and make room for one more body, Zayn wakes up and immediately obliges.

He can feel the mattress dipping from Liam’s weight, and then there’s someone breathing down his neck, resting a hand on his hip, someone who’s the perfect size for curling up around Zayn.

Liam mumbles something, something about Niall’s crush on Demi Lovato, something about football, and then something about Zayn.

Zayn can’t make it all out, but he can feel Liam’s breath playing with the small hairs on his neck, and he hears the word home in connection to his own name, so.

He’s quite pleased.

  
Liam falls asleep not long after, but for once, Zayn can’t.

He’s warm, because Liam is always warm, and he can listen to the sound of someone he loves more than anything breathing, and he.

He feels safe, and happy.

And it would all be perfect, but for that feeling deep down in his stomach, because this is exactly what he wants, only it isn’t.

He’s not allowed to turn around and press his lips to Liam’s chest, collarbones, throat, and he’s not allowed to tangle their fingers together.

He wants to, though. He really does.

  
It would all be perfect but for that small yet monumentally significant detail.

Except for how he constantly has to stop his heart from beating too fast and too hard, how he has to remind himself that this is enough, that he doesn’t need, crave or even want anything more.

*

Liam has sneaked into his room, into his bed, for ten nights straight now.

Zayn has sneaked into the bathroom for ten mornings straight.

He slips out of his boxers, wraps his hand around his erection and tries not to think of Liam when he comes.

*

In St Louis, he does it again.

 __  
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_

He frowns at some of the search results, and ends up choosing one where he works in a coffee shop and Liam is the slightly lost law student who spends much too much time buying coffee for it to be strictly normal.

He ignores the fact that Liam would never, ever study law, and scrolls past the parts where Liam buys the wrong kind of coffee (Liam’s too much of a health freak to have sugar and cream in his, these fan girls ought to know that), but once coffee shop-Zayn has asked law student-Liam out, and eventually brought him home to his little apartment, real Zayn bites his lower lip and realises just how jealous he is of his coffee shop-working self, and just how much he wishes he could push the real Liam up against a wall and just taste and devour him.

  
That night, he comes so hard that he can’t stop himself from moaning out Liam’s name, and he’s never been so thankful that Liam fell asleep during FIFA in Harry’s room before.

*

Niall drops his phone into the toilet on their last night in Minneapolis, so when he needs to check Derby’s latest score, he borrows Zayn’s.

*

They’re in Chicago, and it’s one of their best gigs so far and also, the hotel has one of the most beautiful views Zayn has ever seen.

Lake Michigan stretches out far beneath them, as big as an ocean and almost magical in the darkness, reflecting the glittering lights from the city until it looks as though it’s the lake itself that emits the glimmer.

  
Zayn knows he’ll want to draw the city’s silhouette tomorrow, but not now, because this is more comfortable, more important.

He’s draped over Liam’s bed, his head heavy against Liam’s shoulder and Liam’s thumb absentmindedly tracing the cartoon inspired tattoos on Zayn’s lower arm.

There’s nothing unusual about this, things are back to normal and Zayn has for most parts learnt to control the fluttering within him and the urge to go on Google every time he needs a wank.

Usually, it’s the fluttering that’s most troubling.

Blaming the fluttering on butterflies would be too cheesy and too Louis but he silently wonders whether butterflies is not the best description of the delicate, pastel wings dancing through his veins, his mind, through the ink of his zap! tattoo.

The sparkly sensation twirling through him, making a mess of him and his heart along the way.

  
Liam hasn’t said anything for a while, which is odd, but.

Zayn’s not going to complain.

Usually, it’s a struggle to get Liam to shut up long enough for Zayn to be able to actually keep up with the film.

Not that he really needs to concentrate, he’s seen the Avengers about a million times, and, more often than not he’d rather listen to Liam’s soft, gentle voice anyway.

But this night, they’re halfway though the film and Liam hasn’t said a word.

It’s pleasant, lying there in silence with Liam, just enjoying his presence, but there’s a strange edge to the silence.

It’s not as effortless as usual, and Zayn doesn’t know why, but he thinks it’s maybe because Liam keeps glancing at him when he thinks Zayn isn’t looking.

He looks as Zayn the way Zayn looks at things when he’s drawing, like he wants to memorise each shadow, print every curve and line into his brain.

Zayn looks over at him every now and again, but Liam averts his eyes and pretends to be watching the film instead of meeting his eyes.

  
When the film is over, Zayn switches the TV off, and turns to look at Liam, who’s watching him like that again, and this time.

This time, Liam doesn’t look away.

“Liam…” Zayn starts, not really knowing what he wants to say or where this is going.

He lets Liam’s name linger for a moment or two, the sound of each syllable vibrating in the suddenly tense air before disappearing, leaving the pair of them alone on the bed.

Liam’s fingers are still drawing soothing figures over Zayn’s tattoos.

There’s a glint of something resembling nervousness in his eyes, but Zayn’s not sure, because it’s not like there’s anything to be nervous about.

It’s just them.

(It’s just them, and yet the butterflies in his stomach are suddenly throwing a tantrum, flapping their wings and spreading out through his body, making his fingertips and feet feel all tingly.)

“Liam,” he says again.

“Zayn,” Liam says suddenly, a hint or urgency in his voice, “Zayn, have you been googling me?”

And it’s as though Zayn can’t breathe, because this is by far the most terrifying moment in his life so far.

His mind flickers back to fanfictions, to photoshops of them together, to coffee shop-Zayn and law student-Liam and what they got up to in Zayn’s shabby London apartment, and suddenly he’s blushing, which, of course, makes it all so much worse.

“I- have I what?”

“Have you been googling me?” Liam says, and if Zayn wasn’t so terrified he’d notice the small smile playing on Liam’s lips.

“No, I’ve. I don’t- know what you’re talking about,” Zayn stutters, and sits up.

He moves away from Liam so that they’re not touching anymore, scrambling with the blankets until he’s created something resembling a protective wall between them.

Something to hide his embarrassment behind, his guilt.

He tries to avoid meeting Liam’s eyes, but as always, they’re magnetic and he just.

He can’t, and it’s probably just as well because Liam’s eyes are glittering a bit more than usual and it calms Zayn down a bit.

Makes him think that maybe, maybe Liam isn’t angry.

Maybe they can remain best friends.

Deep inside him, another thought pops up. He tries to dismiss it, but it lingers in the back of his mind and makes him think that maybe, maybe.

 _Liam hadn’t pushed him away_.

Liam suddenly looks uncertain for a while, but then he regains his composure and his smile widens.

“You certain you haven’t? Because, well. Niall told me about your Google search history,” he says, uncharacteristically smug, and now his smile is so bright that Zayn just can’t bring himself to deny it.

“Um. Yeah.” He says, sheepishly, and feels his cheeks reddening further, “I was just. You know. Looking?”

Liam’s laughing now, not in a mocking way but almost adoringly, “You googled me? Zayn, why would you ever do that?”

Zayn is so deeply mortified by this point that he actually buries his head underneath the blankets, trying to make the world and _Liam_ forget about his existence.

“I wanted- wanted to see you. Topless. Please don’t laugh,” he groans, and Liam immediately stopped laughing.

“Why?” he asks, his voice suddenly quiet, and the nervous edge is back again.

Zayn peeks up from beneath his protective layer of blankets, he can see that Liam is moving slightly, rocking too and fro, his knees pulled up against his chest, held close by his arms.

Zayn tries not to notice, but Liam’s arms are tanned and muscled and much too manly for a 19-year-old.

It’s all a bit unfair, and he can’t deal with it at all anymore.

“You’re bloody gorgeous Liam,” he blurts out, and at first he’s horrified to hear the words escaping his mouth, but Liam lights up and Zayn really can’t hold it back, he can’t deny it anymore, not when Liam’s smile is this radiant, not when it for whatever reason makes Liam look so profoundly happy.

He thinks that he might regret it for the rest of his life, but there’s simply no way he’s going to stop now, and so he continues, his voice calmer, his words less rushed and more deliberate, “I googled you because. Because Liam, I think I might love you. Be in love with you, even.”

Liam freezes for a second, and it’s as though time slows down.

Zayn bites his lip, and thinks that he might just have ruined it all, that there’s no way things will go back to normal again.

Liam won’t change, he’s too nice and too good for that, but it’ll still be over because Zayn knows himself good enough to know that he won’t be able to handle having Liam knowing, having Liam pitying him, having Liam turn down dates and girls just because he doesn’t want to hurt him, because that’s the sort of guy Liam is.

Zayn almost wishes Liam would just laugh and make fun of him instead, wish Liam would stop being so bloody perfect, so heart achingly good and true and beautiful.

“Zayn,” Liam breathes, “If you’re joking. I’m. I’m going to kill you. I swear it.”

“Liam,” Zayn begins hesitantly, but he’s interrupted by Liam’s voice, almost as soft as a whisper now.

“Please don’t be joking, Zayn?”

And god, there’s something about seeing Liam like this that awakens the fluttering in Zayn, that makes him think that _Liam hadn’t pushed him away_ , something that makes him wonder whether Liam would maybe even pull closer if Zayn tried kissing him again.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything, ever,” he says in his most solemn impression of Daddy Direction, trying to ease the tension but still praying that Liam will understand how sincerely he means what he’s saying.

The first part works, at least, because Liam lets out a small laugh that makes Zayn’s heartbeat quicken.

“Oh god, Zayn, finally,” Liam smiles and it’s like looking into the sun, Zayn thinks, and then he realises he’s going to die because the sun is coming closer and now he’s so close that Zayn could probably count each and every one of his eyelashes, and Zayn thinks that if he comes any closer he’ll explode, because really, this is unfair.

But when Liam leans in and brushes his lips against Zayn’s, Zayn doesn’t explode.

Instead, it’s like he melts, melts into Liam until they’re one body, one heart, because now they’re kissing and it’s actually even more wonderful than Zayn remembers.

The butterflies are going berserk and it’s like there’s a pool of warm, molten gold settling in his stomach, settling in the Liam-shaped hole and filling it up until it’s gone, and finally.

Finally Zayn feels like he’s whole again.

*

They’re lying next to each other the unmade bed in Zayn’s house, back in Bradford.

Liam’s busy drawing symbols, doodling and writing cheesy snippets of the Take Me Home lyrics with a felt tip pen on Zayn’s naked chest, over his shoulders, on his upper arms and Zayn doesn’t even notice the slightly tickly sensation of the pen, because Liam’s hands are all over him.

Once, they even slip below the waistband of Zayn’s boxers, brushing the sensitive skin there but never quite touching, making Zayn’s moan a mixture of arousal and disappointment that seems to both terrify and thrill Liam.

They haven’t done anything more than kissing, really, because Liam is one of those guys who wants every single step, every new sensation, to be special, one of those boys who’s in no hurry, and Zayn is okay with that, because when it comes to Liam, he’s okay with just about everything.

Suddenly, the felt tip pen leaves his skin, and he opens his eyes.

Liam as propped himself up, resting his head on his arms, and he’s looking like Zayn with marvel, and something fiercer, in his eyes.

“Can I, uh,” he begins, his voice uncertain but steady, “Can I touch it?”

Zayn has to force himself from coming right then and there, because Liam looks so eager and it’s all a bit too much, “Yeah. Please, Li,” he moans, and as warm hands make their way into his boxers, his moan becomes deeper, raspier, and god, Liam looks properly predatory now.

It’s clumsy, and Liam fumbles a bit before he finds his rhythm, but when he does it’s just perfect and no matter how much Zayn tries to bite it back the moan that escapes him is almost guttural in it’s ruggedness.

Liam seems delighted by it, and oh, his hands are almost teasing now, like they’re trying to coax Zayn into coming harder than ever before.

And he does, he comes and comes and screams Liam’s name as he does, and Liam just sits there, looking amazed and so bloody pleased with himself.

Afterwards, the lie next to each other and Zayn just can’t stop smiling.

Some of Liam’s drawings on his lower stomach are all smeared out by the stickiness he’s covered in, and he should probably go find a pair of new boxers and clean himself up a bit before his family comes home, but.

He’s just so content, so happy, lying there next to Liam, with a dazed smile on his lips.

“Zayn,” Liam says after at least ten minutes of breathing in tandem, “Zayn, was I any good?”

And Zayn feels like laughing at that, because obviously, Liam was more than good, but he doesn’t.

Instead, just nods, “Yeah, you’re very good, Liam.”

That seems to please Liam, who sighs contentedly, and falls silent for a while.

Zayn, wrapped up in Liam and in general blissfulness, is on the verge of falling asleep when Liam speaks again, this time witch a touch of mischievousness in his voice.

“I was just thinking here, Zayn…” he smirks, and Zayn braces himself because whatever’s coming won’t be good, “Well,” Liam drawls, “I know I was good, but was I as good as law student-Liam?”

*  
Four years later, Liam is out for one of his endless runs, and Zayn sits alone by the kitchen table.

He’s munching on a massive piece of Harry’s banana cake, which thankfully survived Liam’s last raiding of the kitchen cupboards.

Sharing an apartment is ace, for most parts, but Zayn’s still adamant that only rabbits can survive on Liam’s lenses and sprouts and beans, and it should be punishable to throw all the good stuff out, but Liam somehow manages both, and Zayn is okay with that, because he’s okay with most of the things Liam does.

He swallows the last piece of banana cake, throws a glance on his watch, and counts backwards in his head.

He should have at least half an hour left, and that’s if Liam only goes for one of his shorter (still, in Zayn’s opinion, endless) runs.

Regardless, there should be plenty of time, Zayn in pleased to note as he reaches for his iPad and opens Google.

  
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The End.


End file.
